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Rabbi Mendy Herson's Blog

Thoughts from, and conversations with, Rabbi Herson

I Am Jew. Hear Me Roar

Sometimes you need to be blunt and call reality what it is. When protesting a wrong, one should maintain civility and composure, but that doesn’t preclude being forceful and indefatigable.

Over the past few weeks, the Torah readings have been the story of Joseph, who’s brothers had jealously sold him into slavery. After many years, Joseph rose to the position of Viceroy in Egypt, and his brothers approached him – not dreaming it was their long-sold brother – for help in a time of severe famine. Joseph wanted to grant them forgiveness, but wanted first to ascertain whether they regretted how they treated him, so he orchestrated relationship ‘stress tests’ to find out. He (falsely) accused his youngest brother Benjamin of stealing his royal goblet and threatened to keep him as a slave to see if the brothers would go the distance in protecting Benjamin.

Judah was an impoverished Hebrew in a foreign land. He was also a man about whom Jacob called “a fearsome lion, whom one doesn’t dare rouse”.  Judah spoke truth to power by saying: “You may not like hearing this, but you created our messy situation, and we don’t accept your proposal.”

I have early childhood memories of Jewish pride in the afterglow of Israel’s decisive 6-day war victory. Since then, I’ve witnessed Israel, and the global Jewish community, twisting themselves into pretzels trying to appease a world that seems to begrudge us any victory.

Judaism sets a Messianic era as our ultimate goal, which means we are always aiming for global peace, between people of all nationalities and faiths. But that doesn’t mean we should accept the gaslighting of our haters.

Since Judah is the ancestor from whom we – Judaism and Jews – take our name, let’s channel some Judah and roar some reality: 

1.       The Arab-Islamic empire is among the most successful colonialists in human history. In cases where they allowed subjugated populations to practice other faiths, they were forced to pay a special tax. They are estimated to have taken 14-17 million Africans as slaves. 20th century pan-Arabism is an attempt to create an Arab Empire of the Middle East. Tiny Israel stands in the way. Israel has never tried to conquer another country (all its wars are clearly defensive), and never compels other faiths to convert.

2.       In 1948, the UN General Assembly adopted resolution 181, partitioning Biblical Israel into two states, one Jewish and one Arab. The Arabs rejected the plan and attacked the Jews. The Jews fought back and won. There was a war, launched by the Arabs against their Jewish residents. And there was a victor: Israel. If you start a war in the hopes of conquering another’s land and instead you lose land, you don’t get a do-over.

3.       The Hamas charter rejects the UN resolution (otherwise known as ‘International Law’) as null and void. Hamas’ identifies Biblical Israel – in its entirety - as an “Arab Islamic land”. No room for Jews.

4.       ‘Ethnic Cleansing’ is the systematic targeting of a specific ethnic group for murder or displacement. In the 20th century, over 850,000 Jews were governmentally expelled from Muslim lands in the Middle East. The Israeli government supports and protects its citizens, irrespective of faith, asking only that they not treasonously wage war against their own country.

5.       There has never been an Israeli call for, or attempt at, the genocide of any people, including Palestinian, G-d forbid. At the same time, Hamas is issuing a loud call for Jewish Genocide (Globalize the Intifada, From the River to the Sea, etc.). Let that sink in. The silence of Israel’s Arab neighbors – and too many in American academia - tells us where they stand.

We, Judah, will not be silent.

Dig Deep

 The golden Menorah, the centerpiece of the Chanukah miracle, predates the story by more than a thousand years. It was constructed in the desert, shortly after the Exodus. G-d instructed us to build a portable Sanctuary, and one of the Holy articles was to be a golden seven-branched Menorah, to be kindled daily. It was this very same Menorah that the Maccabees lit when they retook the Holy Temple from its Hellenist invaders. 

But if that Menorah had seven branches, why do ours have eight (in addition to the ‘servant light’, usually raised in the center)? Why did our Sages, in structuring the Chanukah holiday, add a branch, changing for posterity the public image of the Menorah?

On one level, the eight branches commemorate the miracle of the oil lasting eight days, but we can memorialize that aspect by lighting a seven-branch Menorah for eight days. Why take the drastic step of adding a branch?

The number eight represents a level of Divinity beyond reality's natural order. [Seven represents the framework of life as we know it. In the construct of time, think of the week’s seven days. In space, imagine lines extending in all six directions (four directions, up and down), with one point in the middle serving as the nexus.] 

Moshiach, the Talmud tells us, will play a harp of eight strings, alluding to the otherworldly ‘melody’ Moshiach will bring to the world.

What does that have to do with Chanukah? 

The core lesson of Chanukah isn’t so much about what G-d did for the Jews, but about what the Jews did for G-d: The Hellenists weren’t unabashed, Hamas-like Jew-haters. They actually saw themselves as high-minded, tolerant progressives. They just wanted – in the name of their ‘high-minded’ values – to tweak Jewish practice. They wanted to ‘help’ the Jews, by forcing them (on pain of torture and death) to change some practices the Hellenists considered ‘outdated’.

Many Jews agreed, or played it safe, and gave into their demands. After all, the Hellenists weren't indiscriminately murdering them, or professing blind Jew-hatred. They were still able to remain Jews; just with toned-down practices.

But the Maccabees knew this didn’t pass their souls’ sniff test. They weren’t going to concede one iota of Jewish identity. They fought back, putting everything on the line, even though the odds of victory made no sense. Their tradition, their heritage, wasn’t up for negotiation.

They dug deep into their souls and connected with their core Jewish identity. G-d reciprocated by ‘digging deep,’ beyond nature’s parameters (represented by seven), and gave them a miraculous victory, and lights that kept burning even when they had no scientific basis for combustion.

Jews are presently facing turbulent times. We have each other, we have our glorious ancestry, and – most importantly – we always have G-d.

The Menorah’s light - especially today, the last day of Chanukah, when all eight lights are burning brightly - calls us to strengthen our connections. Do Jewish. Stay strong. 

We’ll make it through this.

 We always do.

Can We Have An 'I Am Joseph' moment?

Joseph and his ten brothers had a difficult relationship. It spiraled out of control until the brothers' jealousy overtook them and they abducted Joseph, ultimately selling him into slavery. A famine strikes the region. Joseph, the slave, presents Pharaoh with G-d’s plan for salvation. Pharaoh installs him as Viceroy, and charges him with implementing the plan, which saves Egypt.

When Joseph's brothers come from Israel in search of grain, they meet Joseph, whom they haven't seen in two decades. They don't recognize him, but Joseph recognizes them.

Joseph wants to ascertain whether his brothers regret how they treated him, and whether they've grown as human beings, so he orchestrates situations to test them. As Joseph discerns their deep repentance, he emotionally calls out to them: “I am Joseph!”

Suddenly recognizing what's been happening, the brothers are faced with an earth-shattering paradigm shift. Imagine hearing that you've been operating under a fundamental misconception; that you THINK you've been rationally assessing reality, but you've actually had it all wrong. Your mind begins to race as you revisit the decisions you made in the fog of this illusion.

We've all gone through paradigm shifts. Sometimes it's the slow dawning of a recognition, and sometimes it's a sudden, startling realization. Either way, it's a humbling experience.

But humility leads to growth. When we set aside our self-importance, we can learn a new perspective, and stop living a lie.

Fast forward to 2023 in the USA: The Jewish community has consistently been a brother in solidarity to those advocating justice for the vulnerable and marginalized. Jews in the media have consistently been on the front lines of those speaking truth to power and supporting citadels of ‘forward-thinking,‘ Higher Education. Brothers in solidarity, we thought.

Until October 7, when our brothers sold us out. What will it take for the media, ‘social justice’ groups, politicians, University administrations, etc. to have an “I am Joseph” moment?

If they watch footage from Hamas cameras, of sadistic rapes, tortures and murders, will they speak up?

If they learn that Israel unilaterally gave Gaza to the Palestinians in 2005, FORCIBLY removing Jews (including families who’d been there for generations), only to have the residents turn their new opportunity into a missile launching site, forcing Israel to protect its borders, will they stop calling Gaza an “open-air prison”?

Will ‘educated’ leaders of our top Universities ever acknowledge that - gaslighting aside - “from the river to sea” is unmistakably a call for Jewish genocide?

The list goes on, but who is open to hearing it? Are our ‘brothers’ humble enough to shift perspective?

Joseph’s brothers were able to change their attitude; sadly, the jury is still out on our present-day ‘brothers.’

But it's not looking good.

Still Seeking Peace

We Jews have had a long and painful history with Jew-hatred. Yet we’ve survived against all odds. How have we dealt with it? What has been our strategy?

The Midrash tells us that in ancient times, when Rabbis needed to approach their [usually hostile] rulers on behalf of Jewish interests, they would prepare by meditating on a specific section of Scripture. Many centuries later, Nachmanides, who endured harsh religious oppression in 13th century Spain and ultimately had to flee to Israel, writes that this was still a practice. (Actually, in some communities, it’s still a tradition to read that Scriptural section every Saturday night, at the close of the Shabbos, as we begin to face the world in the coming week.

Propitiously, this very section of Scripture will be read in synagogues around the world tomorrows: 

The Torah describes how our Patriarch, Jacob, prepared to meet his twin brother, Eisav. For two decades, Jacob has been on the run from Eisav, who had sworn to kill him.  Now, Jacob is returning to Israel, their ancestral land, with a large family and a thriving business. 

Jacob hopes that Eisav’s anger has dissipated, but he hears that Eisav has mobilized an army to confront him. So, Jacob prepares a three-pronged response:  1. Diplomacy: Jacob sends gifts to Eisav. 2. Strength: Jacob prepares for war. 3. Prayer. 

The meeting went well. Torah describes how Eisav actually embraced Jacob in a loving, brotherly way. While we know that Eisav hated Jacob until his death, and that he passed this animus to his descendants, he - in this instance - backed off his war plans. 

Mission accomplished.

This has been our historic, strategic template: Try to keep things peaceful, but make it clear that we’re not cowed; we’re prepared for confrontation if necessary. 

And pray to G-d for success.

For many years, millions of people in the Middle East have been raising their toddlers to hate Jews, and some of that venom is infecting us right here at home. Whether it’s in Israel or here in the USA, our goal is always peaceful co-existence, but we can’t back down when we’re being attacked. We need to stand strong against cancerous hatred. It’s the only way to deal with a bully.

And, of course, we pray to G-d, the miraculous Master of Jewish Survival.

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